


Fifty Ways to Make a Record

by merisunshine36



Category: Moonlight (2016)
Genre: Black Character(s), Children, Closeted Character, Complicated Relationships, Emotionally Repressed, Florida, Humidity, M/M, POV Character of Color, Sexual Tension, You Can't Go Home Again, palm trees, pastelitos, questionable parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 08:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17138054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merisunshine36/pseuds/merisunshine36
Summary: Even if it's not easy, some things are worth waiting for.





	Fifty Ways to Make a Record

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nausicaa_lives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_lives/gifts).



> dear nausicaa_lives, I hope you enjoy this and have a very lovely yuletide :). I actually forgot to post this by the deadline....oops. Here it is anyway! 
> 
> Title blatantly stolen from the Kid Cudi song of the same name. Additional notes at the end.

Chiron jerks awake, his mind still fuzzy from a dream featuring him, Kevin and a white sand beach with clear blue skies. He halfway expects to feel sand beneath his fingers when sits up from where he'd fallen asleep on Kevin's lap, and it takes a minute before his subconscious memory of the ocean surf resolves itself into the thin electronic vibration of his phone in his pocket. Gradually, his eyes adjust. The inky shadows become Kevin's coffee table, his television, the framed picture of his _lita_ Ines on a tiny shelf mounted to the wall.

He hunches over his phone so he can block out the light from the screen while he's checking his messages. Leftover adrenaline from the dream still courses through his veins. He relaxes when he sees it's just Travis, saying he needs some money so his grandmom can get her heart medicine this week. Chiron knows he's lying, or at least Chiron thinks he is. It doesn't matter either way because the answer is no.

"You got somewhere to be, Black?"

The sounds of Kevin's voice startles him. It's not a surprise though--after Chiron got locked up he couldn't sleep heavy anymore either. He hasn't moved at all, eyes still closed, head resting against the wall at an uncomfortable-looking angle.

"Nah, man. I'm straight." He rolls his phone back and forth between his palms for a moment before decisively shutting off his phone.

Kevin inhales, sleepy and slow, knocks their knees together. "Yeah, alright."

  
By mutual and unspoken agreement they separate sometime in the middle of the night. Chiron takes over the lumpy sofa bed and Kevin retreats to his bedroom, a space not much bigger than a closet. Chiron wakes up uncomfortable and sweaty in the morning, since Kevin refused to turn the air down past 72 at night. Chiron swings his legs to the ground, and looks up to find that Kevin is in the middle of leaving him a spare key on the kitchen counter.

"I got a meeting with my probation officer today," Kevin explains. He's still got nothing but his drawers on, and Chiron reluctantly brings his focus upward, settling on the red crease marks from the sheets marching up and down the side of his face. He must have just gotten up. "You were sleeping pretty hard - didn't want to wake you."

Chiron just stays on his phone at first, while Kevin goes through his morning routine. He sends out a couple texts to people who need reminders that just because he's gone for a few days, doesn't mean they can fuck around. Kevin's clearly off his game, though. He shows up in the bathroom when Chiron is brushing his teeth just to remind him to check both locks if he leaves the house - twice. As a kid, Kevin's anxiety about school, girls, or anything else translated into him being loud and obnoxious, a quality that has apparently worsened over time.

Chiron calls him out on it and Kevin ducks his head, sheepish. "I know, I know. This shit has me feeling some kinda way, man. I got eighteen more months of this and every time I go in there I feel like they're just--it's like they want a reason to lock me up again. And they can do it, too."

Chiron doesn't bother denying any of what Kevin's said. He spits out the toothpaste foam and sends it swirling down the drain. Kevin's shirt is neat and ironed, white with a pattern of tiny blue diamonds that sits well against the warm copper of his skin. He looks good. Professional. His collar is lopsided though, and without really thinking things through Chiron reaches out to set it straight.

"Be easy, man." He leans back to eye his work. "You got this."

Kevin's look turns mischievous. He rocks forward on his toes so he's right up in Chiron's space. "You think so?"

Something inside Chiron freezes up. If this were a romance movie, right about now Kevin would close the distance and they'd kiss. If it were the porn Chiron watches from the secrecy of his apartment, then right about now he'd put Kevin on his knees, or bend him over the couch until his face was flushed and his body covered in sweat. Chiron may know nothing of Kevin's body or his mouth, but he does know that if he let him, that Kevin's hands would be gentle, the way they were ten years ago, and the way they were last night. Even when his fists landed, Kevin didn't go hard as he could have. He went easy. On the surface, he barely even left a mark.

This is reality though, so they both stay dressed and upright. "Yeah," Chiron says, his voice rough. He tugs at Kevin's collar one last time, and lets his hands fall to his sides. "I do."

* * *

 

Chiron never replies to the message Travis left him. Or the one from Davonte, or the six from Marcelo, who wants to know when he's gonna get that money Chiron owes him from a few months back. He knows he's on borrowed time. Atlanta and Miami aren't that far apart. But for now, he let's the days cycle onward, and decides that everything else can wait.

  
Being back home settles something deep within him. He didn't realize how much he'd missed palm trees and the little lizards baking in the sun. He buys three of those sweet guava _pastelitos_ they sell at any grocery store that's worth your time and takes them down to the beach, stuffing them in his face one by one while the surf curls around his ankles. It's been a minute since he's been at the beach, and Chiron wonders if he still knows how to swim. He doesn't bother trying to find out. He likes being around Kevin too, with his constant jokes and touches. Kevin is - not easy, he's never easy. But he knows Chiron's story. Not one of the knuckleheads he rolls with in Atlanta can string together two sentences about who Chiron really is. But he'd bet good money that Kevin could give you chapter, verse and song.

He wakes up one morning with the bone-deep knowledge that it's gonna rain, and soon. They're deep in hurricane season, and while most of the action has been down on the Gulf this year, the changing weight of the air presses in on the old fault lines of Chiron's injuries until his whole face throbs. Kevin's medicine cabinet is empty so Chiron finds himself driving up and down through the old neighborhood, idly looking for a drugstore. Most everybody he knows has moved on or died, and all the new folks just look right through him and keep stepping, like he's a ghost. In a way he might be. He's gone and died and came back resurrected as somebody new. The shape of his body, its obvious strength, commands a respect that he never could back then. When gets to the Walgreen's and wanders the aisles in search of some Advil, people quickly get out of his way.

On the way back he makes a split second decision to detour down to Teresa's, navigating his way there just by the map of his memory. Once he gets into her development he slows down and turns off the radio. Every house has a neat garden with flowers in a dozen violent bursts of color and perfectly manicured palms swaying gently overhead. Curtains flutter open as her neighbors watch him drive down the street.

It takes Teresa long enough to answer the doorbell that he almost leaves again. The skies open up and the first fat drops of rain run down his face, soaking into his shirt.

When Teresa finally gets to the door, her mouth goes soft at the sight of him. Her smile begins with her eyes and lights up her whole face. It was always her eyes that always told the truth about how she felt. She might be frowning at you but her eyes would say yes, you can have more mac and cheese and yes, you can stay the night, or sometimes yes, you can have a piece of cake, but only if you do your homework first.

"It's been a while, Chiron." Teresa crosses her arms over her chest. "I'm not the only one that missed you."

The scent of her perfume hangs in the air between them. Chiron can picture the heavy glass bottle it comes in clear as day. He knows this because once, he stole that very bottle and gave it to his mother on her birthday. Nobody ever said anything to him about it. Not even when Juan made Chiron go with him to buy a replacement, so he could see just how much it cost.

"I'm at Kev's-" he starts - then stops, afraid of what road that kind of admission might lead him down. He stares at his feet, head bowed, while the words he needs swim at the back of his mind but never break the surface. Seems like lately everyone wants more than he has to give. All this stuff with Kevin, Teresa, his mom - it's like being put on a bike for the first time with everybody expecting you already know how to ride.

He tries again. "Sorry," he says and takes a step back, out of her space. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Teresa makes a low, disappointed noise in the back of her throat. "Aw, no no no, I'm not letting you get away that easily. Now come here so I can hug you, sweetheart."

 

* * *

 

By day six of his Miami retreat, Chiron has mapped out a new routine for himself. He went to Walmart and picked up a couple pieces of clothing that he keeps folded neatly on a side table. The couch is his home base, and the narrow space in front of it where he starts his workout each day. Kevin doesn't own any weights, forcing Chiron to migrate outside so he can take advantage of all the metal bars and stairs to get some pullups in. The neighbors watch him here, too. When Kevon comes home from working the breakfast shift, there are two teenage girls and one little boy staring at Chiron and whispering.

"You gonna start charging for that gun show?" Kevin calls out. Distracted, Chiron loses his grip and drops to the ground. He told Kev to call him for a ride when he was done, so he's surprised to see that he made his way back on his own.

"Hey, Kev." The little kids have drifted off, leaving them alone. Chiron abandoned his shirt once he sweat through it, and now Kevin's gaze is like a physical thing, touching his shoulders, caressing his stomach. His eyes catch on a knot of old scar tissue up on Chiron's shoulder, and he reaches out to touch it, fingers ghosting over the desensitized skin. He whistles, long and low.

'Where you'd get that from?"

"Wrong place, wrong time." He doesn't feel like saying any more about it. Chiron retrieves his shirt from the ground and is confronted with the sharp smell of his own sweat. He decides to leave it off. "You gonna make me something to eat?"

Kevin takes the subject change for the escape that it is. "You don't ever think about nothing else, do you?" he grumbles as he pushes open the door. Chiron had taken advantage of his absence to put the air conditioning on full blast; Kevin scowls when he realizes this and turns it back down again. "And you need stop running up my damn light bill."

Chiron doesn't bother with any other explanation other than, "it's hot out" before he starts stretching out his quads.

Kevin drops his bookbag on a chair, then heads directly into the kitchen. There's a dull whoosh as the gas range is lit, followed by the sound of the fridge opening. "Samantha's working a double shift today," says Kevin, his voice muffled. "We gotta go pick up little Kev. I nominated you as my driver."

Chiron wasn't sure enough of this new Kevin to know what kind of father he'd be. It wouldn't have been a surprise to him if Kevin, Jr. was less an actual presence in his life, and more a picture to be pulled out and displayed proudly. Maybe someone to visit on Christmas or birthdays, but never anyone that could throw you off your daily grind. It looks like Kevin is putting in his time though, and that makes Chiron proud of him.

Kevin's got eggs, onions and some steak he brought home from the diner laid out before him. He sets right to chopping the onion, hands moving so fast Chiron can't hardly see the blade. "Little Kev usually takes that couch bed," he says without looking up. "You can double up with me."

It's a bomb casually dropped into the middle of whatever it is they have going on between them. "He don't know me though." Chiron's mind plays a highlight reel of the parade of men in and out of his mama's bedroom. There are some things you understand right away, even when you're young.

"Kev is like his daddy. He likes everybody."

Chiron doesn't say yes or no, just claims the carton of eggs and starts cracking them into a bowl so he has something to do with his hands. The kitchen is too small for more than one person to work easily, but Kevin doesn't seem to care that Chiron keeps bumping into him. He loses track at some point and looks down to find that he's emptied the entire carton.

Kevin hands him a wire whisk, a tool that Chiron understands how to use only in theory. He stirs the eggs in a circle for a few hopeless seconds before Kevin reaches around and wraps his fingers around Chiron's wrist, guiding his hand slowly through the motions. Some of it splashes over the side, leaving viscous yellow streaks on the counter.

"Like this, but faster," Kevin says. "You gotta put that swirl on it, you know how it be."

Well. Chiron tightens his grip on the whisk. "No, I don't know." he says, shaking his head. "You could teach me though."

Chiron is surprised to hear the words come out of his own mouth, and when Kevin doesn't have an immediate comeback, he sets the whisk carefully into the bowl and grips the counter, afraid to turn around. The silence rings loud in his ears. He's so busy questioning himself that at first, he doesn't notice the soft press of Kevin's mouth against his neck. Kevin's beard tickles the sensitive skin there, an unexpected sensation which makes Chiron's skin go hot and tight. He turns so they can face each other. Kevin just smiles at him and then, kisses him for real.

 

* * *

 

 

Samantha's place isn't too far away from where Chiron's house used to be. The house itself looks solid, even though there's a car up on blocks that takes up most of the front yard, and what grass is left is scrubby and dry. A thick bassline pumps out from someone's speakers down the street, and the music hangs heavy in the air along with the rich, smoky scent from their grill.

Kevin wasn't wrong - fine ass Samantha is still holding it down. The fabric of her uniform pants is waging a losing battle with her hips. It doesn't even make a difference that she's got Kevin, Jr. tucked beneath her arm, hauling him out to the car like a teary-faced football she's determined to carry over the goal line. The little boy's face and hands are covered in something red and sticky, and Chiron starts to mentally tally how much he'll be paying to get his interior detailed next week. When Kevin steps out the car, his son escapes from his mother's arms and runs to him, gleeful.

"Kevin, I said be here at three," Samantha says, her voice tight. She takes in the sight Chiron behind the wheel, earrings, gold fronts and all. Her eyes narrow. "Who's this? You said you were taking the bus. I don't have the car seat this week, I told you my cousin got it."

"Little Kev can ride up front with me," Kevin replies, brushing off her concern. Kevin's got him hanging upside down now, strong hands holding tight to his short, chubby legs, which earns him a series of delighted shrieks. "This here's Chiron. Remember him from back in the day? He's in Atlanta now, but he's staying with me for a while. "

Chiron chances a glance in her direction, just in time to see Samantha's mouth fall open in a soft _o_ of surprise.

"Oh, I remember Chiron." She give a little wave, and he nods in acknowledgement. "So he's _staying_ with you?" Her voice is insinuating a whole hell of a lot, and Chiron wonders what, exactly, she knows about Kevin's life. "You were gonna tell me about this when?"

Kevin sets his son back down on his feet. His usual bravado has gone on vacation, and for the first time since he arrived, Chiron sees him deflate a little. "Come on, Samantha. Don't be like that."

"Fine." She glances at the battered digital watch on her wrist. "My car's in the shop. The baby can ride in back with me, and then you can drop me off."

Samantha doesn't ever stop talking the whole way to the hospital where she works, which is fine by Chiron since it means he doesn't have to make any contributions of his own. She complains about her job, her neighbors, and her mother, who's been riding her because she hasn't been to church lately.

"I pray every day," she declares. "And church is like three fucking hours, ain't nobody got time for church." Chiron finds himself agreeing.

Kevin makes noises here and there like he's listening, but mostly he keeps stealing little sneaking glances at Chiron. Chiron's mouth still feels tender; he wonders if people can tell. Kevin keeps smiling at him, too, which makes it hard for Chiron not to smile back even as he's weaving in and out of traffic, trying to make up for lost time.

"You need to quit," Chiron tells him at a light. He tries to keep a straight face long enough to level him with a flat, no-nonsense look. "Stop playing games when I'm driving." Kevin puts his hands up, feigning innocence.

As they pull up to the drop-off point at the hospital, Chiron's phone starts ringing insistently. It's a number he doesn't recognize, so he lets it go to voicemail.

Samantha unbuckles her seatbelt and makes her way to the passenger side window. She taps on it and waits patiently until it's rolled all the way down. "Kevin, I need to talk to you. Alone."

There's a fine sprinkling of star tattoos that starts on her neck and travels down toward her collarbones; Kevin's eyes drop southward to where they disappear beneath her shirt. Her earthy brown skin is smooth, and her mouth is soft. She seems like a person who can handle her business. Chiron wonders why Kevin gave that up for a dank little three-room apartment and night shifts in an empty diner.

"Alright," Kevin concedes, and hauls himself out the car.

The car is silent for about thirty seconds before Kevin, Jr. pulls himself over the passenger seat headrest. "Who're you?" he demands. With those big brown eyes, there's no question whose child he is.

"I'm Chiron," he replies, hoping that's good enough.

He must pass muster, because the little boy follows up with, "I like your chain, can I have it?"

Chiron sighs. "If I let you sit in the front, will you be quiet?" Little Kevin scrambles into the front seat, beaming. He immediately goes for the glove compartment and Chiron's heart just about stops for a second before he remembers that Kevin made Chiron put his piece in the trunk, and all that's inside now besides his insurance papers is a wad of cash and a couple burner phones. Little Kevin claims one and pretends to call his grandmother.

Chiron takes advantage of his distraction to call his own voicemail. It's Travis. Travis doesn't hardly call anybody. He doesn't say anything real useful, but the overall theme is that Chiron needs to be back in Atlanta yesterday. People are looking for him. Chiron grips the phone tight enough that the plastic case creaks between his fingers.

He peers out the window to see Samantha standing with her arms crossed over her chest defensively. Kevin reaches out to her, but she brushes him away. Other people are staring at them now. A young girl hustles to get her grandmother in the door even as she keeps looking over her shoulder, curious as to how the whole thing is going down.

The conversation is brought to an end when Little Kevin sticks his face out the window and yells, "Mommy, mommy, mommy," until his parents decide to pay attention to him.

Samantha scoops Little Kevin up and squeezes him tight. "Be good for _papi_ , okay?"

She rains down kisses on Little Kevin's chubby face, then buckles him into the back seat again before heading inside. Kevin slides into the front and pulls the door shut hard enough that the whole car shakes a little.

"What'd she want?" Chiron asks, wary. The engine roars to life when he turns the key in the ignition. Little Kevin's impressed " _whoooa_ " lightens things up a bit. Kevin reaches back and pinches his nose, earning him a delighted squeal.

"She thinks you're trouble." Kevin leans back against the headrest and scrubs at his forehead, distracted enough that he doesn't notice the guilty expression tracking across Chiron's face. "Don't worry about it. Let's just go."  
  
Little Kevin's head is a mess, so they take him down to one of the barber shops at Liberty Flea Market so they can tighten him up. He wants a spiderweb shaved into his hair, and Kevin gives in even as he's moaning about how Samantha is gonna rake him over the coals for it.

"You too soft," Chiron says, shaking his head. "You need to learn to tell him no."

Kevin ignores him and peels off a five to tip the barber. They keep wandering through the aisles until they end up at a spot with cases on cases of hats, manned by a heavyset guy wearing a Dominican flag t-shirt. He's selling this neon green snapback with the Miami Heat logo that Little Kevin gravitates towards. He presses his face up to the glass, like the case will give way if he just wants it hard enough.

Kevin tries to steer him in another direction. "We ain't got that kinda cash, little man. How about we go get you some pizza."

Without thinking it through, Chiron peels two twenties from his wallet and hands them over. It's technically not his money, but he can make it up from somewhere else.

"Let him have it," Chiron says.

"What happened to telling him no?"

"Changed my mind." He likes fucking with Kevin, since he wears all his emotions right out in front for everyone to see. It's fun to poke at him a little.

Kevin makes a disapproving noise. "When he starts asking for other shit, I'm gonna send you the bill."

The hat is about two sizes too big, and slips down over Little Kevin's eyes. He doesn't bother to thank Chiron before he goes tearing off down the aisle again, but somehow, it doesn't even matter.

 

* * *

 

  
By the time they get back to Kevin's, Chiron's got three more missed calls. With his gun locked away he's starting to feel naked, exposed. Would Marcelo track him all the way down here? He didn't think so, but the thought of it made Chiron fidgety all through their pizza dinner, wired enough that he hardly even ate. That alone was strange enough that Kevin started throwing questioning glances in his direction. He didn't say anything, though, too busy with trying to get little Kev to eat all his food and not spill juice everywhere.

It's late by the time they get home, and while Kevin gets the sleepy little boy draped over his shoulder inside the house, Chiron quietly pops the trunk and slides his gun into the back of his waistband again. The cool weight of it centers and grounds him. The beach is just across the street. He holds his breath and lets the gentle susurration of the waves wash over him. You don't get anything like this in Atlanta. It's nine hours and a world away. All the same sprawling neighborhoods and humidity, but no palm trees and no sea salt air to make up for it.

Back inside, Kevin is trying to arrange a sheet over his son without him waking up. Chiron takes advantage of his distraction to slip past him and into Kevin's bedroom. Once he's inside, he realizes that, as small as the place is, he's never been in this particular room. There's a couple more of his son's pictures on the wall, a lamp and a small bedside table jammed into the corner. It's the one messy spot in the house, covered with receipts and stray change.

The bed takes up almost the entirety of the room. It's still unmade, so it's easy enough to tell which side Kevin sleeps on. Chiron quietly lifts up the other side of the mattress and slips the gun between it and the box spring. Chiron feels better with it nearby. Just in case. The mattress is heavy enough that this way, little man won't be able to get to it. He slips back out to the bathroom to pee and wash his face, then get his do-rag situated for the night. Kevin makes fun of him for it, but since he wakes up every day with his hair lopsided as fuck, he can't really talk.

By the time he's back out of the bathroom, Kevin is already in bed, back up against the wall, scrolling through his phone. Chiron decides there's nothing for it and slides in between the sheets before he changes his mind. So here he is. In bed with a man, and it only took twenty-six years for him to get there. Kevin reaches out a hand and squeezes the back of his neck, offering that lightness, that ease that Chiron never knows how to ask for. Chiron leans into it, and then lets his hand fall on Kevin's thigh. His legs are skinny and two shades lighter than the rest of him. He needs to get outside more.

"Little Kev really likes you." Kevin plugs his phone into the wall, then uses his newly freed hand to tangle his fingers around Chiron's own. He kisses each finger until Chiron pulls away, embarrassed and a little overwhelmed at the way all the blood in his body has rapidly moved southward. He expects Kevin to be upset, but he just looks smug with a side of pleased. He keeps on talking like nothing has happened. "His fifth birthday's in February. Me and Samantha are gonna do it up real big, invite all his little friends to that roller skating spot by the zoo. You should come through."

"I might could," Chiron says, noncommittal. "This the longest I've been out of Atlanta since I got up there. I don't know when I'll be back."

Kevin leans back and fixes Chiron with a long, hard look. "Chiron, you in trouble? I can see you taking all them calls. Hear you getting up at night."

Chiron picks at a piece of lint on the blanket. He was supposed to meet somebody for a drop today, in fact. A meeting that he just blew off, like it was nothing. "Nah," he says, lying through his teeth. "I'm good."

Kevin know's it's not the truth. It's all written out in the soft downturn of his mouth and that little bit of sadness visible in his eyes. He remembers that look from every teacher he ever had. The desire to spill all his secrets tugs at him, but Chiron bites his tongue. Kevin's got something good, here, and it's best left undisturbed.

"All right, then." Kevin reaches over Chiron's waist to turn out the light. "Goodnight, Chiron."

"Night, Kev."

The darkness settles over them, save for a bare strip of orange light from the streetlamp outside. Kevin's body is warm next to him, and it's only a few minutes until his breathing has evened out into the smooth patterns of sleep.

If Chiron listens hard enough, he can still hear the ocean.

**Author's Note:**

> I was so so happy to write this. The neighborhood Chiron grew up in reminds me, in some ways, of the one where I was raised. It definitely brings back memories of the time I've spent sweating to death while visiting my cousins in Florida. I did my best to do justice to everyone in the universe of this story. One note is that, while there are a ton of n-bombs dropped in the film, I couldn't really bring myself to do that, and wound up erasing the couple I did have in the text. I know it's not 100% true to the dialogue in the film, but I hope the story rings true for you. 
> 
> Other notes for anyone who is interested: As best as I could tell on Google Maps, there are no actual beach front locations a convenient distance from Liberty City, the Miami neighborhood where Chiron grows up in the film. They were all shot on Miami beach, which would take a 1-2 hour bus ride from his home. In fact, the house that is a stand in for Teresa's is worth 1.2MM, and the closest apartment I could find near Kevin is supposed to live went for ~500K. I thought the depiction of seamless beach access for these characters who are definitely not part of the glitzy side of Miami was a really interesting directorial choice, and so I decided to stay with that. 
> 
> If you're curious, all the shooting locations are listed here: https://www.miamiandbeaches.com/things-to-do/attractions/made-in-miami-moonlight 
> 
> Lastly, if you are ever in South Florida, definitely eat a guava pastelito :)


End file.
